Alchemist's Kiss

by AR DeClerck

  The scent of wood smoke teased his nose as the village came into view. He staggered a little, the breath forced from his lungs. He leaned against the trunk of an oak tree to the side of the road and tried to catch his breath. It was exactly the same. Not the way he'd left it, he swore to himself as he looked hard at the idyllic little village, but the way it had looked the day his father had come to town. The very last day he had ever known real carefree happiness.

  The homes were small and well kept, the thatched roofs waving in the gentle breeze. Women walked through the town square with their babies as the older children played around the well. Their laughter came to his ears and he closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again this nightmare would be over. He clenched his fists when he realized that it had not gone away. He looked down at his left palm and realized with belated surprise that he was not wearing his glove. The raised flesh of the rune was as clear now as it had been seventeen years before.

  The sound of an approaching motorcar made him step quickly into the copse of trees. His mind was still reeling at the idea that he was here again, in his own past, and he had no idea what might happen if he was seen. To travel through time was forbidden to wizards. Changing the past could have unalterable effects on the future.

  Steam belched from the pipes of the car as it puttered along the road. It rattled and clanged as it bumped over the ruts, its large spoked wheels squeaking as it rolled toward the town. It would be a marvel for the poor people of Longmoore, Icarus knew. He'd been fascinated with the horseless carriage the first time he'd seen it. The marvel of modern science and magic was an aphrodisiac to a boy of eleven.

  With the top of the motorcar down his father sat tall and proud in the driver's seat, smiling as he passed by Icarus' hiding place on the road. Icarus watched him as he went by, his eyes never leaving the man's form.

  How excited he'd been to finally meet his father. He'd been told wondrous things about the man, the Grand Master of all wizards. Someday, his mother had promised him each night before bed, his father would come for him, to train him in the ways of magic. Icarus breathed deep as he remembered the hard pounding of his heart the day his father had driven into town. He'd seemed everything Icarus' mother had promised, and more. Only too late would Icarus come to realize that the bright golden packaging of his glorious father hid a dark and singularly evil heart and soul.

  As the townsfolk gathered around the motorcar, exclaiming over it, Icarus stepped from the trees. His heart hardened, his mind set on one thing. Now was the chance. If he could destroy his father now, all of Longmoore might be spared.

  Icarus took two steps toward the town when a hand jerked him backward into the trees again. He tensed and prepared a magical strike until the scent of rosewater and delicate powder hit his nose.

  “Are you daft, Icarus?”

  Icarus pulled the soft warm body of his Cora into his arms, holding her as tightly as he dared. Her red curls tumbled down her back and he stroked the silky mass gently with his right hand as his heart thundered in his ears. All he could hear was the rushing of the blood in his veins. He curled his left hand tight, making sure his palm could never touch her. Her arms went around him, and the thought that perhaps he'd gone to Heaven crossed his mind.

  She pulled pack and her bejeweled eyes sparkled with anger. Her lips moved, but he still could not hear her. He blinked when she drew back a hand and slapped him soundly on the cheek.

  “----is wrong with you?”

  His hearing came back in a rush, her voice sharp with anger and fear. He couldn't help but smile at her. She was so beautiful when she was angry. Maybe, his mind wandered, that was why he delighted in angering her so.

  “Icarus?”

  He blinked again, shaking himself from the absent-minded wanderings of his confused mind. He stared hard into Cora's eyes, and she softened to him. Her hands were soft in his hair as she tugged him to her again, holding him against her as he managed only to breathe and think of her.

  At last she pulled back and some of the fog drained away. He shook his head to clear the rest of the cobwebs of confusion.

  “What are we doing in Longmoore, Cora?”

  Her breath came out in a rush as she looked to the sky and murmured what he thought might be both a curse and a prayer.

  “Thank goodness you're not completely soft!” She tweaked his cheek with her finger and thumb. “We had no idea what the dark aether might have done to your mind.”

  “Dark aether?” Icarus thought of the inky black of the aether in the storm clouds. “I was infected?”

  “I should slap you silly, Icarus Kane!” Cora crossed her arms, her face going red with remembered anger. “You purposely let go of the ship and tried to fall to your death.”

  “I wasn't keen on dying.” he argued. This was invigorating, this would erase the fuzzy edges that kept trying to encroach on his clear thinking. If he was infected with dark aether any number of things could happen to his body and mind. “I couldn't grab your hand without my glove.”

  “You'd better think of a good way to thank Lucan Orrin and Machiavelli.” she warned, shaking her head. “If it wasn't for them we'd both be flat on the London sidewalk.”

  “Both?”

  Her face flushed redder, matching her hair as she looked away. She mumbled something and he leaned closer, not believing he'd heard her correctly. He was almost certain she'd said she'd jumped off the ship after him.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I said I jumped off the ship after you.” she repeated more clearly.

  Icarus was unsure how to react. He did his best impression of a trout out of water as he tried to think of something to say. He could not ignore the heat of pleasure that roiled in his gut at the idea that she might love him that much. It was mingling with the horror of the thought of her splattered upon the London streets.

  “Machiavelli saved us,” she went on, not looking at him. “I used The Hand to talk to the aether, and it contacted Orrin. He sent Machiavelli to catch us.” She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt, her fingers toying with the scarlet silk. “It was Orrin's idea for me to come here after you.”

  “To Longmoore?”

  She rolled her eyes, finally looking at him, “We're not in Longmoore, Icarus. We're in some kind of dream state, created by the aether. Orrin wasn't sure, but he thinks it's trying to purge the dark aether from your system by bringing you here.”

  “This is the day my father came to town. By tomorrow night this village will burn and every person here will be dead.”

  The heat in Cora's eyes died, and she stepped closer to put her hand on his arm. He quickly thrust his left hand deep into his pocket to protect her from his touch. “Then this is where the heart of the infection lies, Icarus. In your guilt. Don't you see what you have to do?”

  “I'm afraid I don't.” He knew he wanted to take her in his arms again and never let go. He'd been so close to saying it to her on the ship, and Archimedes' words to him had played over and over in his mind as he'd tumbled toward his death. When he was gone, he'd realized, Cora would never know how he felt about her. How special she was, and how intoxicating he found her. How every breath she took, and every bat of her eyelash, left him breathless with wanting. How she was the light that never let him see the darkness. How much he loved her.

  “You have to forgive yourself, Icarus. It's the only way to ever be free.”

  He laughed, even though there was no humor in the sound. “If only it were as easy as that, Cora.” He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the old pain that wormed its way up from the festering hole in his gut. It was a pain that he'd carried for so long it had become a part of who he was.

  Her hand was light on his cheek as she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “Something is different now, Icarus. This time, you can do it.”

  She traced over his chin and the damned dimple and ran a light line over his lips, sparks following along behind.

  His tongue was th
ick on the roof of his mouth as he managed to speak, “And what is that? What do I have now that I've never had before?”

  She laughed and he opened his eyes to see the way her lips drew up and the light danced in her eyes. “You have me.”

  The path was lined with tulips, his mother's favorite flower. Every inch of the yard was lovingly tended every morning before any of her other chores began. Cora's hand was warm in his as he slowed down. An unfamiliar feeling slithered around the back of his neck and tiptoed its way down his collar. He rubbed the back of his neck and the scrape of the scars on his palm against his skin made him wish again for a damned glove to cover the thing up.

  “You're thinking too hard.” Cora scolded him softly. Her eyes were dark with empathetic pain.

  “I'm concerned that our current predicament is only giving my father the time he needs to enact whatever heinous plan he's concocting next.” he hedged, “If he manages to find Croft first we may very well return to a reality far less peaceful than this.”

  “You're afraid to see what it was like.” She smoothed down the collar of his duster. “You're afraid to remember because you'll have to deal with the loss all over again.”

  “You're quite sure of your diagnosis.” Icarus stuffed his hand into his pocket and frowned with irritation. “I'd no idea you studied human psychology.”

  She laughed at his bad temper, and he wondered again at her own mental stability. She was forever amused by his irritations and constantly testing his strength of will.

  “I didn't need to study psychology, Icarus. I have spent the last six years with the specimen in question. Your moods lost their mystery long ago.”

  “You know me so well, do you?”

  She stepped closer, fitting herself within his arms and laying her head against his chest. When she nodded her hair tickled his nose.

  He sighed and pulled her closer with his free hand. He rested his cheek against her hair. “Explain to me again why we must relive this nightmare? Hasn't my guilt served me well all these years?”

  “It drove you to protect the weak and innocent.” she agreed, stepping back. “It brought you to me. To Archie. But now you must let it go if we're to survive. The dark aether is feeding on it, and we can never be free of it unless you purge it.”

  “Icarus!”

  He stiffened as a soft feminine voice called his name.

  “Icarus, darling, it's time to come in for supper!”

  A sturdy boy with sun-browned skin and a crop of wild white-blonde curls barreled around the corner and Icarus stepped back as he ran directly between them. Icarus could feel the brush of the boy's shoulder and smell the sweat of a hard day's play on his skin as he passed.

  Cora reached for his hand and took it into her own as they turned to follow the boy with their eyes. Icarus knew his hand clenched involuntarily at the sight of the woman who pulled the resisting boy into her arms and kissed him soundly atop his curls as he squirmed to pull away.

  “Mother!” the boy whined, though a smile split his face in two. “I'm far too old for that!”

  “Icarus.” The woman parroted the boy's tone, “You are now and will forever be my darling boy.” She swatted his behind and took the giggling little girl by the hand. “Now wash for dinner, young man, while I put Serena's plate on the table.”

  “Yes, Mother.” The boy didn't need to stand on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the woman's weathered cheek. The small family moved inside and the door closed.

  “You were sweet.” Cora said, a smile on her face. She tugged on his hand. “Your mother was lovely.”

  “She was, wasn't she?” Icarus moved to the window to stare in at the woman who ladled stew into a bowl for the small girl. “I'd forgotten her voice....”

  “Your sister was small.”

  “She was only six. A quiet child.” Icarus touched the windowsill, and his eyes locked with the little girl's as she raised her head to look directly at him. The world around them began to whirl, a tornado of light and sound that swept them up and drew them away from Icarus' childhood home.

  Icarus blinked hard, driving the grit from his eyes. His stomach turned at the smell of molten iron that always awakened a terrible fear in his gut. He knew the rotten stench of moldering hay and dirt. Sweat trickled over his forehead and into his eyes as the blast of heat from the forge swept over him. A cool, small hand slipped into his.

  “Icarus?”

  He couldn't pull his eyes from the flames as they leaped into the air. His mouth was dry, the roil of terror climbing into his throat.

  “Where are we now?”

  “The forge.” He couldn't look down at Cora as she tangled her hand in his shirt, tugging. He was transfixed by the fire and the memories of its burn against his skin. His palm itched as he rubbed his thumb over the rune. “This is the place it happened.”

  “He hurt you here.”

  Icarus knew his laugh was half-mad. A strangled sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. “I was sleeping soundly in my bed, dreaming as young men do.”

  “Icarus, I hear them.”

  He nodded. Even the shadows were familiar to him now. These moments were etched into his mind clearly. Outside the forge hut he heard the fall of heavy boots and the scuffling of bare feet. His feet.

  The flap on the hut flew up as his father dragged him inside by the collar. He was pale, his blue eyes wide and frightened. Icarus could remember the fear in the boy's mouth and the quaking of his muscles as his father pulled him closer to the flames. They were across the pit from he and Cora, and he could see the self-satisfied smirk on his father's face. The flames that danced in the pit reflected in the wide fierce pools of his father's eyes and Icarus knew the man was the devil. Perhaps as close to one as any on Earth.

  “Stand, boy.” Victor dragged young Icarus upright. He shook the boy by the collar of his rough homespun nightshirt. “I thought you wanted to be a wizard.”

  “I...I do, sir.”

  “Then here is the night that will make you a man.” The smile stretched wide on Victor's face as he lifted the brand high in the air. It glowed red in the dim hut. “Kneel.”

  Icarus could remember the bite of the hay on his bare knees, and feel the heat of the flames on his face as his father grabbed his left hand.

  “A child's hands,” Victor scoffed, “having never bathed in blood nor labor. A fine canvas for the spell.”

  “What...what will happen, Father?”

  Victor stared hard at the young boy at his feet. “You'll be powerful, boy. An open wound in the world, pouring aether out for all who need it. A wizard of unparalleled ability. That is what you want, is it not?”

  Icarus knew the trepidation in the heart of his younger self. He also knew the burst of excitement that tingled in his heart at his father's words. He, a powerful wizard! As the brand neared his younger self's palm Icarus turned away, pulling Cora with him through the back flap of the hut into the cooler air of the Gwydir night.

  Cora's face was pale in the moonlight as a horrific scream broke the silence of the night. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears gathering. Icarus closed his eyes, his heart pounding at the sound and the memory of the pain.

  “Icarus.” Cora's hand was soft on his face and he opened his eyes to look at her. “Are you all right?”

  His lips trembled, and he thought he might cry for the first time in seventeen years. “I am a monster, Cora. Just like him.”

  “No.” She stepped closer, both hands cupping his face. He breathed deep, inhaling her scent to erase the smell of burning flesh from his nose. He buried his right hand deep into the curls at the nape of her neck. “You were an innocent boy, Icarus.”

  “You don't understand.” The words were a whisper. He never wanted her to know the darkness that would surely run from his veins if he bled.

  “Tell me, then.”

  The words clung to his lips. He breathed deep, knowing that she should know the truth. “I like the power. I like the magic.
It...excites me.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her break away from his hold and turn away. Instead her lips quivered as she held back a smile.

  “Is that all?”

  “As much as it hurt, the feeling of the aether inside my body was heady. An aphrodisiac that still stirs my blood, even now.”

  He felt the hot press of Cora's body against his, and felt the sensual slide of her hips as she swished her skirts. She licked her lips and he was derailed for a moment with the idea that he must follow the path her tongue had taken. He blinked when she laughed. “You're a wizard, Icarus. Magic should excite you. It should make you feel whole. It's part of who you are.”

  “I used it to hurt people, Cora.”

  “And to save people.” She was improbably closer. If he was a better man he might have considered her indecent, but she was his Cora and she was above reproach. He held back a groan as she rubbed her bodice against him, the soft press of her breasts making his heart speed up.

  “You think to distract me from my misery with your feminine wiles?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.” She lifted her head to trail a delicate row of kisses over his chin and across the damnable dimple. “Logic doesn't seem to work.”

  “I am the most logical man you know.”

  Her laugh made her rub against him more, and clenched his fist in her hair, only relaxing when he realized he might be hurting her. She didn't complain as her hands slid from his cheeks to the back of his neck. “Have I succeeded in distracting you sufficiently?”

  “No.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “I need more.”

  “More?”

  “Convincing.”

  She pressed her lips to his, and he spun out of control, his heart and mind stalled as their tongues tangled and he breathed in the essence of his Cora. When she pulled back he was breathless and her smile was wide.